Strange Glue
by T'eyla Minh
Summary: FIFTH CHAPTER UP. A slightly belated Christmas story, in which Betty makes Daniel an offer he can't refuse, but only ends up making things worse. D/B pairing. Songfic to "Strange Glue" by Catatonia. Rating may change.
1. We Both Came Apart At The Seams

**STRANGE GLUE**

**Summary: **Daniel / Betty angst; finding comfort in familiarity. A belated Christmas story in which Betty makes Daniel an offer he can't refuse, only to make things more complicated…

**Rating: **PG (K-plus ).

**Setting / Spoilers:** Season 2, post "Bananas for Betty".

**Character / Pairing: **Daniel/Betty.

**Disclaimer: **I own nowt.

**Feedback: **Leave a review here (anonymous disabled) or a comment on the danielbetty comm. over on LJ, or drop me an email if you're desperate.

**Notes: **This is a songfic (oh noes!) based on "Strange Glue" by the Welsh band Catatonia. I've liked the song for ages, but it suddenly struck me one quite recent night that it suited Daniel and Betty (at least at this point in the season) perfectly. Still not sure where I'm going with it, though. The song lyrics are posted at the very end of the fic, and also partially form the chapter titles. Chapters will be quite lengthy, as is par for the course with my songfics, but I'm sure nobody minds… :)

As for my other story, "Rain Will Make The Flowers Grow", it's not dead, I promise. Real Life kind of got in the way for a while, and this bloody hiatus has most certainly not helped. Normal service will be resumed shortly, hopefully as soon as Channel 4 gets on with showing us the next episode…

Without further ado, read on…

**Strange Glue**

Chapter One: We Both Came Apart At the Seams

_23__rd __December, 2007_

Two days until Christmas, and Betty Suarez was not feeling the festive spirit very much at all. As if the accident with the tree hadn't been bad enough, it looked like she'd be working for the majority of the holiday period thanks to Wilhelmina's evil plot to destroy _Mode_. There were a lot of pieces of pick up, and not just at the magazine; that the remaining staff had agreed to work on the last Sunday before Christmas said an awful lot about their commitment.

Daniel was trying to keep everything moving and putting on a positive front: that much was obvious. He'd even suggested she should spend the week between Christmas and New Year's with her family. In truth, Betty wanted to work. If she couldn't spend any part of Christmas with Henry, she didn't want to spend it with anyone…

Charlie had called, apparently, asking that Henry spend Christmas with her family, who were very eager to meet the proud father of their soon-to-be-arriving grandchild. It had been an order, not a request. Henry had planned a lovely evening for he and Betty: so lovely, in fact, that she wondered if it was too good to be true. When he dropped the bombshell as they were leaving the restaurant, it was all she could do to look at him; they argued in the street for thirty seconds, until Henry became embarrassed by the public attention and lowered his voice again.

He would be gone for two weeks – two weeks fewer to spend together within their rapidly-decreasing five-month timescale. Betty had accepted it, pretending it was fine; in fact, the blow kept on hitting the nearer Christmas approached, and she found herself starting to dread her favourite holiday. Their first – and last – Christmas together was simply not to be.

Henry had flown out to Tucson only two days after his announcement, on a last-minute, middle-of-the-night flight which she had not been able to attend to see him off. Perhaps, in retrospect, that was for the best; Betty wasn't sure how she would have coped. It didn't stop her feeling guilty about missing his departure, the guilt subsequently adding to her pre-Christmas woes.

Determined not to be beaten by her emotions, Betty had thrown all of her energy into helping to save _Mode_. The December issue had gone out on time, but with the computers still down and staffing still at a minimum, everyone was working overtime to get ahead on the January issue.

When even the usually oblivious Amanda had approached Betty to ask if Daniel was coping okay, Betty could have kicked herself for not realising something was wrong a lot sooner. Of _course_ Daniel wasn't coping okay. He'd lost his father only a few short weeks ago, his sister had humiliated him and taken over the business in one fell swoop, and his mother was in jail – again. For all of her own problems, at least she had a family to spend the season with; Daniel had nobody.

It was approaching the end of the day, but there was none of the usual afternoon slowing. _Mode _staff were still rushing around with drawings and clothing rails, and Christina hadn't stopped sewing all day. (She'd stabbed herself with pins so many times that "bloodstain chic" was probably going to be the current issue's primary feature.) Daniel had retired to his office to read through the latest batch of hastily-written articles, whilst Betty tried to make organisation out of chaos. Really, it was just par for the course.

Betty had seen Daniel do his 'thumbs-up-and-wink' affirmation at least three times over the course of the afternoon, and after the fourth time had decided that enough was enough. The last recipient of the gesture had been Amanda; she strode out of Daniel's office and gave Betty a look of pleading horror.

"I just suggested a spread on animal print and he said it was okay." She mimicked Daniel's gesture on the last word. When Betty didn't register anything particularly wrong with this statement, Amanda incredulously added: "Animal print was _last _month!"

"Oh."

"_Do_ something!"

"Okay, okay. Uh… go doodle on your giant meeting pad. I'll talk to him."

Amanda adopted an expression that was something akin to gratitude (it was hard to tell with the sneer) and seemed to be about to say something, but decided against it. Casting a somewhat worried glance back towards Daniel – who was staring brainlessly at the wall – she then flounced off towards the meeting room, hips swaying exaggeratedly.

Betty let out a heavy sigh. Of all the times for Daniel to have a mid-life crisis, today was not the best. Deciding that the direct approach was called for, she headed cautiously into his office, knocking lightly on the door.

"Daniel?"

He seemed to snap out of his stupor. "Oh. Hi, Betty. How's it going out there?"

"It's going as well as can be expected. I think we're just about on track."

"Good."

"There's just a few more things to sort out tomorrow, and-"

"Wait, what day is it?"

"Sunday," she told him. "You remember, your mother complained that it was meant to be a rest day?" Daniel's last telephone call to his mother had included this reprimand; he vowed never to tell her anything about work ever again.

"No, I meant the date…" he clarified.

"It's the 23rd."

"So tomorrow's Christmas Eve?"

Betty nodded. Daniel cast his gaze to the scurrying workers outside his office, still rushing and colliding in their efforts to hold the magazine together. His eyes alighted on the miniature Christmas tree that Betty had placed on her desk; it was a fibre-optic monstrosity, which sparkled in an endless rainbow of colours, but was otherwise undecorated. She'd just not had the time or inclination.

Daniel glanced at his watch: 3.45pm.

"Tell everyone to go home," he said. "For Christmas. And tell them not to come back until January."

"But, Daniel-"

"That's an _order_, Betty."

She knew there was to be no arguing with that tone of voice. Excusing herself, she stepped out into the corridor and stopped the first person she saw, telling them to pass on the message. The relieved worker set the rack he was pushing against the wall, nodded gratefully, and set off to tell everyone else.

Betty returned to Daniel's office and closed the door after her. He was once again staring blindly ahead, deep in thought. The articles lay unread on his desk.

"Okay, it's done," she said. Daniel didn't reply. "I think that'll earn you a 'Boss of the Year' award easily." This time he shrugged; at least it was better than nothing. Betty, undeterred, continued. "Is there anything you want me to finish up?"

Finally, he acknowledged her. "That order included you… Go home to your family."

She thought of home: her family, together; the awful bright pink tree; a Henry-shaped space at the table, as she had yet to tell her father he wouldn't be there as planned. It wasn't a very appealing image.

"No, no, I… I think I should really… do something." She fumbled around, looking for anything that needed doing. "There must be people who need calling."

"Betty, for God's sake!" Daniel leapt to his feet, sweeping the paper deliberately from his desk in frustration. The outburst caused Betty to jump in surprise, and Daniel, aware of her now-fearful expression, lowered his voice again. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing exasperatedly. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to yell at you. I just don't want you to waste what's left of Christmas here with me. This place is my father's legacy, and whatever mess there is, I'll sort it out."

"I want to help you," she said.

"I know you do, and it's appreciated, but…" He gave her a serious look. "There's more to life than being my assistant. You have a family to spend Christmas with, and you should be with Henry right now, not stuck here."

Crestfallen, Betty walked a little further into the room, suddenly needing to sit down. "That's not going to happen…" she said.

Daniel immediately feared the worst, and images flew unbidden to his brain of what he wanted to do to Henry if he'd hurt Betty in any way. She sat herself down opposite Daniel's desk, smoothing her skirt self-consciously and tugging it over her knees, suddenly very aware of her own presence in the stark office.

Daniel approached her cautiously and hovered his hand over her shoulder for a few seconds, debating with himself, before finally placing it there, carefully. "Is it… over?"

Betty looked up at him. "No, not over. Just… well, Charlie called, and Henry has to spend Christmas with her family."

"I'm sorry…"

"It's okay. _I'm_ okay. It's best that he's there, really."

Daniel wondered how Betty could take it so calmly. From what he could ascertain, Charlie sounded like a manipulative bitch, and Henry well and truly under her thumb.

Betty had fallen silent, lost to thought, and Daniel was at a loss as to what to say. He didn't have the words to make it better – Betty was the pep-talk queen – and those words he _did _have (mostly relating to his opinion of the entire Henry situation) were decidedly unhelpful.

Instead, he fell back on the age-old staple: _actions speak louder…_

He placed his other hand on her opposite shoulder, and with a firm but gentle grip, pulled her to her feet. Betty turned, somewhat curious, and Daniel took the opportunity to wrap her in a hug.

She didn't react at first, other than to stiffen at the contact. Betty was usually the one to initiate such gestures, and Daniel briefly wondered if he'd broken some kind of unspoken rule. After a few seconds, however, Betty relaxed in his arms and returned the hug.

Daniel wanted to say something. Something like "It's Henry's loss", or "You can do better". He found the words wouldn't form, and anyway Betty wouldn't want to hear it. They had agreed to disagree on the entire issue, and all he could do was be there for her when things like this happened.

When Betty tried and failed to stifle a loud sniff, he realised she was crying. She pulled out of his embrace, a little embarrassed, and wiped her eyes.

"Sorry. I'm just being stupid."

Daniel searched his pockets fumblingly, cursing himself for not carrying a handkerchief – what kind of a gentleman was he? – and then began to root through his desk drawers, finally emerging triumphantly with a half-empty box of Kleenex. Betty took one from the proffered box gratefully, and blew her nose.

"You're not being stupid," he told her. "You have every right to be upset."

"I don't, not really. At least I still have my family. It's just… this would have been our first Christmas. Our last one, too." She paused, squeezing the paper tissue in her fist. "Charlie ruins _everything_."

That seemed about right to Daniel. "You could always… have Christmas later," he suggested. "Just because it's _called_ Christmas Day doesn't necessarily mean you need to celebrate it then."

Betty thought about it for a while, and realised Daniel was right. There was really nothing stopping her from saving her gifts for Henry until after his return, although she imagined it would take some persuasion to get him to agree. He was quite traditional, and wouldn't immediately accept the concept.

"You're right," she said. "Thank you."

"It's no prob-" Daniel's words were cut off by Betty launching herself at him for another hug. This was more familiar territory, at least, and she seemed to have cheered up. Daniel tentatively put his arms back around her.

"If you're going to send me home," she said, back to her old self, "then you'll have to lead by example. There's nothing more you can do here on your own." She was about to pull away again, when she felt Daniel's grip tighten around her. "Daniel?"

He was shaking; his head was buried in her shoulder. With a pang of realisation, Betty realised he was crying, and was at a loss. _Oh, crap…_

Over Daniel's shoulder, she saw Amanda approaching the office. The receptionist stopped dead just before entering when she saw the scene, and mouthed "Is everything okay?" exaggeratedly through the glass. Betty rolled her eyes and gave an awkward, sarcastic thumbs-up, trying to get rid of her.

Amanda looked a little worried and made to open the door. Betty mouthed "No" and waved her arms in a 'go away!' gesture, and even though Amanda hesitated, she eventually turned around and headed for the exit. Betty, relieved, focused back on the task in hand.

"Daniel, are… are you okay?"

Her voice broke through his distracted misery and he instantly pulled out of her arms, mortified that she'd caught him in such a moment of weakness. He turned away from her and walked to the window, where he stood and stared at the city lights below.

Betty reached for the box he'd retrieved earlier and went nearer, standing at arm's length behind him and reaching out to offer the Kleenex. He laughed quietly, and took one, but didn't turn back.

"What's wrong?" she asked, persevering.

"Nothing," he lied. "I'm fine."

Betty's hands went to her hips. "I don't know who you're trying to convince, mister. There's just the two of us right now, and you certainly can't pretend that I didn't just see that."

Daniel realised he wasn't going to get out of talking to her, and, after taking a moment to compose himself, he set about picking up the scattered papers from the floor, where he'd strewn them earlier. "I was thinking about Dad," he told her, honestly. "Not that our family Christmases were ever particularly… normal. But at least we were all together. This year it's… it's gone." He sighed. "And when I think about Mom in that place…"

Bradford Meade's last request of Betty echoed in her brain; cautiously, she scanned the corners of the room in case the Ghost of Millionaires Past had chosen to make a reappearance, relieved when there was nothing but the usual stark, white walls.

"Your father would want you to be happy, Daniel," she said, hoping it was enough. "This time next year everything will be better."

"Will it?" he asked. "I don't know how long Mom's going to be away for, I can't see Alexis and me ever getting along, and as for my Dad… he's not going to come back, is he?"

"You have to think positive," she said, although the words sounded very silly after what he'd been through recently. "At least Wilhelmina isn't here to steal Christmas…"

"I doubt even _she_ could manage that," he said. "No matter how much else she's taken away."

"That's the spirit!" Betty was somewhat relieved to see that Daniel was faring better after talking it through, but she had a niggling feeling there was something else bothering him. He probably wasn't going to be any more forthcoming with it, though. "Now, _promise _me you'll go home."

He nodded, but with very little conviction. "I suppose so…"

Betty considered for a moment that Daniel wouldn't want to return home if there was no family-orientated Christmas to go home for, and she was struck with the bleak mental image of him spending the time alone at his apartment. In her mind, the scene was dark and lonely; the apartment was grey and uninviting and there was certainly no tree. She couldn't let him spend Christmas on his own, not when there was already a space at her family's dinner table that wouldn't be filled by Henry.

"Daniel, um…" She didn't know how to phrase the question without it sounding like charity, even though it was, in a way. Seeing as it had been the direct approach which got her into this situation, she decided to just let it out. "Would you like to spend Christmas with me?"

"What?" Despite his surprise, his eyes lit up just slightly, and Betty knew she had him hooked, no matter what he might say to the contrary.

"With my family, I mean," she added. "Dad and Hilda would be happy to have you – Justin, too."

"Betty, that's…" _That's more than I deserve_, he thought. "I can't impose on your family at this time of year."

"You wouldn't be imposing. And seriously? There's no _better_ time of year. We have enough food to feed an army."

Daniel was lost for words. He desperately wanted to accept Betty's offer, but something inside wouldn't let him. He thought of Betty's warm, colourful home, her wonderful family… and then he thought of his own – deceased, disbanded and distant. "Are you sure nobody will mind?"

She smiled. "I'm absolutely certain. Besides, I could do with some distraction from… you know." She lowered her head a little, hoping that Daniel wouldn't think he was just second choice after Henry. Daniel was still reeling from the offer, and the thought never crossed his mind.

"Thank you. It means a lot."

"No problem."

An amicable silence followed. Daniel was beginning to feel just a little excited about Christmas again, a feeling he hadn't properly felt since childhood. Betty's offer had also solved the problem of when Daniel was going to hand over her present. The last few days at _Mode_ had been too hectic to find the chance to do so, and he had half-considered – quite ironically – going over to her place on the day itself to post it through the letter box, except he had eventually decided against it. He hadn't wanted her to feel like he was interfering in her out-of-work time, especially as he knew he wouldn't get away silently and that Ignacio or Hilda would undoubtedly make him stay. They were decent people – the kind of people Daniel rarely associated with or had any experience of.

Daniel's gaze was once again drawn to the tree on Betty's desk.

"You never decorated your tree," he said, rather pointlessly.

"Oh, I know. I bought it just before Henry took me to dinner the other night… I wasn't really feeling the festive spirit very much after that."

"Do you have any decorations?"

"They're in my desk. Why?"

Daniel didn't answer her, merely swept past her, out of his office, and strode over to her desk. He found the box of decorations easily – they were cheap plastic ornaments that she'd bought in bulk – and opened it up. Betty followed him out of the room curiously.

"Well?" he said. "Aren't you going to help?"

For the next half an hour, they decorated the tree with baubles, beads and bells, far too many for the tree's diminutive form. When they ran out of branches, they adorned Betty's desk, monitor and chair. She was glad to see Daniel enjoying himself, and she wondered why she'd left the tree abandoned. She supposed the disaster at home hadn't helped: no tree would compare to her family's traditionally-decorated one.

Finally, the box was empty but for a silver-clad fairy.

"Which of us does the honours?" asked Betty.

"Our tree was always pre-decorated," Daniel reminded her.

She shrugged. "My dad usually put the fairy on top. So I guess around here that would be…" She let the sentence trail off. _Bradford. Around here, that would be Bradford…_

"That would be Alexis," said Daniel, shaking off the sudden melancholy that had infected the moment. "As the new head of the Meade empire. But as she's not here…" He reached into the box quickly and positioned the fairy atop the tree as best he could, given how little room there was left.

They stood back to admire their handiwork. The fibre-optic lights twinkled away happily.

"You know…" said Daniel, after a thoughtful pause, "I think that may be the ugliest tree I ever saw."

Betty laughed. "Trust me, you haven't seen the pink monstrosity at _el_ _casa de Suarez_ yet."

Daniel considered that any tree was better than no tree at all, which is what would have greeted him at his apartment.

"I'm sure it looks fine," he reassured her, looking forward to spending some time with Betty's family again. It had been far too long.

"Come on, then," she said. "Let's get out of here."

Betty held out a hand in anticipation, as if about to lead a small child across a busy road. Daniel looked at it for a moment, then gave a smile and took it. Betty led him to the elevator, swinging their hands casually. As they waited for the elevator car to arrive, the _Mode_ floor's janitor passed by. He tipped his hat and wished them a Merry Christmas, then carried on his way, towards Daniel's office.

The elevator pinged and its doors slid open as it announced the floor and that it was "Going down". Just before they entered, the janitor turned off the lights in Daniel's room and Betty's adjoining office, and they caught a glimpse of her tree, all lit up and sparkly, before it, too, was switched off.

They exchanged a smile, stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed.

_To be continued..._

_**A/N: **__As I said, the chapters are going to be long, as there is a lot of stuff to get in around very few lyrics... I'm not __completely__ happy with this first chapter because it takes a lot of words to explain not very much, but at least it has shippiness. :P And there will be more to come, so watch this space._

_Please leave a review. Even if it's just to bug me about "Rain". I will finish it. Honest..._


	2. Your Place Or Mine?

**Strange Glue**

_**This Chapter: **__Betty and Daniel arrive at her house and Daniel gets settled in._

_**A/N: **__Nothing in particular happens in this chapter as it's really mostly filler before the good stuff starts in the third chapter, but it has a few nice moments, I think. Many thanks to all the reviewers for the first chapter, and I hope you enjoy this one._

Chapter Two: Your Place Or Mine?

Daniel was by now thoroughly beginning to feel the Christmas spirit, and had let his driver have the night off. Instead, they travelled together on the subway to Queens. Betty had refused Daniel's offer to pay for a cab on the grounds that it would be too expensive – that and she had a return ticket to use up – but he had seemed more than willing to use public transport.

Betty realised, as soon as they'd sat down on her train home, that Daniel had obviously never been on the subway before, as he was counting stops and constantly ensuring they hadn't missed their station. He spent the entire journey looking alternatively fascinated and terrified, and at one point suffered so badly with claustrophobia that they had to get off at the next stop and wait for the following train. Betty found his childlike reaction quite endearing.

On the walk to her house, Betty pointed out various landmarks from her childhood. None of them were particularly notable, but she seemed to have an anecdote about almost everything, whether it was getting her head stuck in railings or having to wait, keeping watch, for Hilda to return from a liaison with a secret boyfriend. She even pointed out a paving slab where Justin had tripped, aged three, and ended up with stitches in his knee, but only cried over the fact that he'd ruined his favourite jeans.

It was strange to Daniel to hear about a neighbourhood like this, and Betty's childhood in the area. When he was growing up, the nearest neighbours lived several miles away, and all the shopping was done in the grand stores of New York City. The only story he could think of to tell was about attention-seeking in Tiffany's by throwing a tantrum – Claire had completely ignored him, left him there, and returned an hour later laden with bags to find him still sitting on the floor. He never had another tantrum in public after that. His story didn't sound the same as Betty's, though; her stories were humorous – his merely sounded like a bad childhood memory, although she did laugh nonetheless at the reaction of his mother, which sounded typical of Mama Meade.

Daniel's tantrum story only reminded Betty of another tale of her own. She was quite aware that she was rambling on about things she was certain he had no interest in, but it was only to fill the silence. He seemed content to let her continue, and she was enjoying having someone to tell the stories to, someone from a different world. It was strange, she thought, how completely comfortable she felt talking to him. It had only been a few months, after all, since she'd even started working at _Mode_. She had never anticipated being such good friends with her boss.

It was a fairly long walk to Betty's home, but when they finally approached the neat little house in the middle of the row, Daniel felt it had come too soon. He could easily walk around the block another five times if it meant more of Betty's company.

Of course, arriving at the house didn't mean he'd see any _less_ of her, but suddenly he wanted them to be completely alone, as they had been on the walk. Well, alone was relative – there had been other pedestrians and a few last-minute shoppers, some kids hanging around in groups, but they were oblivious to the pair. Daniel had become so completely lost in Betty's world that he had barely noticed them anyway.

"Well, here we are," she said, redundantly. "I guess I should have called ahead to warn them, but it probably won't be a problem."

Daniel looked up at the house. A warm glow emanated from the windows, and neighbouring houses were bedecked with lights. He remembered standing on her front porch a year ago, confessing feelings he'd never had before for a woman he never wanted to see again. Shaking off the memory, he asked, "Are you absolutely sure it won't be a problem?"

"It's a little late now if it is…"

So saying, she unlocked the front door. The warmth from within finally dragged Daniel over the threshold, into the cosy Suarez home. Betty wandered in ahead of him, but Daniel stayed momentarily in the porch. The friendly voice of Ignacio filled his ears as he greeted his youngest daughter.

"Hola, mija. You're early. I wasn't expecting you for another two hours."

Hilda spoke up next. "Did Mr Grouchy Meade actually let you go early?"

"Well, actually," said Betty, "you can ask him that for yourself…"

Daniel assumed that was his cue to come out of hiding, and he stepped into the main part of the house. He gave a sheepish wave. "Hi, everyone."

Justin, ever reduced to a mass of teenage oh-em-gee by the presence of the youngest Meade heir, bounded towards him. "Are you staying for dinner? Can he stay for dinner, mom? He's _so_ staying for dinner."

"Actually," clarified Betty, "he's staying for Christmas."

This statement effectively silenced the rest of the Suarez clan, though Justin's grin had perhaps doubled in size. Hilda raised a questioning eyebrow, but said nothing. Finally, Ignacio broke the quietude.

"What happened to Henry?" he asked.

"Oh. He's been asked to stay with Charlie's family for a couple of weeks." Betty was getting sick of explaining the situation, and attempted to look nonchalant about it for the sake of her family, forcing a casual shrug. "Kind of a bummer, but not to worry because Daniel's going to take his place at the table. _Aren't you?_" she prompted, jabbing Daniel in the ribs with her elbow.

"Ow! Yes. If that's okay, anyway. I don't want to im-"

"I swear, Daniel, if you say that one more time…"

"Looks like it's decided," said Ignacio, interrupting them. "Welcome to our home, Daniel, as ever. It's our pleasure." Noticing that he didn't appear to be carrying a bag, he thoughtfully added, "I'll find you some spare clothes," and disappeared upstairs.

The atmosphere relaxed considerably, and Daniel settled himself on the sofa, content to watch the Suarez world go by for a while. Betty headed upstairs to change out of her work clothes, leaving Daniel downstairs, whilst Hilda joined him on the sofa, flicking channels absently.

Justin approached, after a while, hiding something behind his back.

"I wasn't sure if you were coming," he said, "but I saved this for you anyway…" He pulled out a Christmas ornament – not the one Daniel had made himself the year before, but a new one – and some craft materials. "I made the base already, but it's in serious need of a glitter transplant."

Daniel laughed and took the proffered items. "Thanks, Justin. I'll get right on it."

"You don't have to humour him, you know," said Hilda, without looking over from the television. "If you ignore him long enough, he'll go away."

"You're so mean!" protested her son. "Just because you ruined Christmas…"

"I did _not_ ruin Christmas!" Hilda protested, then paused, thoughtful. "All right, maybe I did a little bit, but at least we have a tree…"

Justin turned to Daniel for moral support, giving him a knowing nod. "A _horrible_ tree."

"Justin!"

Daniel intervened. "If it's any consolation, I like your tree…" They both looked at him incredulously. He caved under the pressure of Hilda's gaze, though Justin also made a forceful silhouette, with his hands on his hips. "Okay, that's a lie. But you haven't ruined anyone's Christmas, Hilda, and Justin, you didn't have to save me an ornament. I'm not even family."

The teenager shrugged. "S'no big deal." He tried to sound unbothered, though it was clearly the biggest deal in the world for Justin to have a Daniel Meade original hanging from their neon pink disaster of a tree.

"Come on, you know I suck at this…" Daniel indicated for Justin to join him on the sofa, creations in glitter and glue not being his particular forte, and Justin eagerly sat down, grabbing the glue stick and giving instructions.

It was this scene that faced Betty when she returned downstairs a few minutes later, as her boss and her nephew put the finishing touches to their work of art. She stopped at the base of the stairs and watched the pair for a while.

"The trick," explained Justin seriously, "it not to overdo it. You need more glitter, but don't Liz Taylor it to death."

Daniel carefully sprinkled a little more glitter onto his cardboard angel. "How's that?"

Betty came forward at this point to admire his handiwork. "Perfect."

Daniel beamed, apparently genuinely quite pleased with himself, and Justin put the decoration to one side.

"Once it's dry, we can hang it," he said authoritatively, "but not before, 'cause if you get glitter on the couch Granpa will kill you."

"Kill who?" Ignacio had returned from upstairs, bearing an armful of clothing. He took in the scene. "Oh, I see Justin got you involved in our family tradition."

"It's not very good," said Daniel, bemoaning his decoration.

"It's not the quality that counts, it's the effort." Ignacio handed him the pile of clothes. "Here. These should fit. I doubt they're quite what you're used to, but…"

"Thank you, Mr Suarez, it's appreciated."

Ignacio nodded, then turned to his youngest daughter. "Betty, next time you drag him from the office, make sure he's got a change of clothes."

"Thanks, Dad…"

Ignacio headed back into the kitchen to finish whatever was for dinner, which was starting to smell delicious, whilst Daniel looked through the pile. They were all comfortable items – exactly what he needed for a pleasant Christmas away from his own life. He stopped at a pair of blue-and-white striped pyjamas.

"Wow," he said, "it's been a while since I wore some of these…"

Betty and her sister exchanged glances, apparently realising the same thought simultaneously. Hilda's eyebrows raised approvingly; Betty turned a bright shade of red. When she spoke, her voice seemed uncomfortably high-pitched.

"Umm… I'm going to help in the kitchen," she announced, hastily excusing herself.

Once within the relatively safe confines of the kitchen, Betty opened the refrigerator to get a nice, cold drink, suddenly feeling quite flushed. For good measure, she stuck her head inside the cool interior for a few seconds to numb her brain of her madly wandering thoughts – thoughts she most definitely should not have been having about her _boss_, for God's sake…

"So," asked her father, distracting her, "this Henry thing – you weren't just saying that, were you? He _is_ with Charlie's family?"

"What? Oh. Of _course _he is; it's only temporary. He'll be back in…" she mentally counted "… ten days."

"If you're sure, mija."

"Why would I lie?" She was becoming exasperated – couldn't everyone just drop the Henry issue?

"I don't know. It just seems awfully convenient for you to bring Daniel over here in his place…"

Betty pointed towards the lounge and the front door beyond. "Do you want me to tell him to leave?"

Ignacio stopped stirring the concoction on the stove and turned, waving his hands calmingly. "No, no, of course not… I just hope you know what you're doing. If it's just to make Henry jealous…"

"It's not." Although the thought had crossed her mind, at one point, after she'd already invited Daniel for his own benefit. "I'm doing Daniel a favour," she clarified, mostly to herself. "He's got nobody to spend the holidays with, so I thought…" She sighed, looking to her father for advice. "Was it a bad idea? I don't want Daniel to think I'm just using him to get back at Henry…"

Her father moved over to take Betty's hands in his. "Betty. It was a very nice thing to do, and I'm sure Daniel appreciates it. He wouldn't have agreed otherwise. I know you two have a close bond, and that Henry not being here is difficult for you… I just don't want to see you get hurt, mija."

"I know…"

"Now," he said, effectively drawing the conversation to a close now that he was satisfied Betty's reasons were sound, "why don't you go and tell everyone that dinner's ready? I hope Daniel likes enchiladas."

-—d-b—

"Mr Suarez, that was _delicious_." Daniel sat back, stretched, and patted his stomach in a satisfied fashion. "Betty is always saying what a good cook you are, but this is the first time I've experienced it first hand. Now I don't just have to take her word for it."

Ignacio waved a hand dismissively. "It's nothing. And you don't have to call me 'Mr Suarez', 'Mr Meade'…"

"Fair enough. Point taken."

Hilda and Justin, sensing an opportunity, both yawned simultaneously and left the table first, effectively avoiding being lumbered with the washing up. They got halfway towards the lounge before Betty called after them.

"Hey, Hilda, it's your turn!"

"Let Daniel do it!" she called back.

"That's just plain rude – he's a guest!"

"It's okay, Betty," said Daniel placatingly. "I don't mind."

"Well…" There was going to be no arguing with him – he was already gathering up the plates. "Fine. But I'm going to help."

"That sounds fine to me," said Ignacio, stretching. "These old bones could do with a rest." So saying, he got up and joined his daughter and grandson in the lounge, where the sound of their soap opera could already be heard emanating from the direction of the television.

Daniel deposited the dishes in the sink and filled it with water, and Betty took it upon herself to dry and put away. The irony had not escaped her that Daniel was, for once, cleaning up someone's else mess – including her own – rather than the other way around. They passed the time in amicable silence, Betty absently humming a Christmas song without realising she was doing it.

"What's that?" asked Daniel, handing her a plate.

Betty stopped humming. "What's what?"

"What was that you were just singing?"

She thought about it. "I… don't remember."

"It was pretty." He didn't elaborate on whether it was the song or the singing itself he was describing. Betty became very self-consciously aware of herself, determined not to fall into the trap of letting herself get too comfortable around Daniel, even though she couldn't pinpoint exactly why that would be such a bad thing.

To distract herself, she struck up a conversation. "So, are you glad you came?"

"Very. Even with the added chores."

"I'm happy you're here," she admitted. "I kind of invited you for selfish reasons, too. If it had just been me and them, it'd just be 'Henry' this and 'Charlie' that… At least now they'll have something else to talk about."

"You don't have to explain. Besides, if I'm honest, I was starting to dread the thought of going home. I'm all for the minimalist look, don't get me wrong, but at this time of year, its just a little…"

"Boring?" she supplied, smiling knowingly.

"Sparse," he clarified. "Depressing, actually. I just needed something more homely. I can't think of anywhere more homely than here."

"Home-made decorations and all…"

Daniel smiled, realising what she was referring to. "Justin's a good kid."

"He is. Hilda's lucky to have him. Even if he _does_ shirk on his kitchen duties…"

Their conversation descended into idle chatter and a brief discussion on the next issue of the magazine, though neither of their hearts were really in it. With the dishes clean and dry, they finally joined the rest of Betty's family in the lounge. Ignacio was sitting in an armchair, so Daniel and Betty squeezed onto the couch next to Hilda.

Justin was beginning to doze against his mother, looking younger than his years, and Ignacio was yawning widely. They sat watching television for a while, but eventually it became a futile exercise.

Daniel and Betty were both exhausted from their hectic week at _Mode_. Betty was struggling to keep her eyes open, sitting with her chin propped in her hands, elbows on her knees, staring through half-closed eyelids. Daniel wasn't faring much better, periodically opening and closing his eyes and jerking awake every few seconds.

Finally, Ignacio announced that it was time for bed. Instantly, Justin was awake and complaining, but Hilda was insistent. Then, there was the problem of the sleeping arrangements – something Betty hadn't considered when she'd invited Daniel. Obviously, she and Henry would have shared, and there wouldn't have been a problem.

Justin excitedly demanded a sleepover-style arrangement, but the idea was immediately quashed for being entirely inappropriate, no matter how innocently it had been suggested. That was the kind of information Daniel didn't want ending up in the wrong hands – specifically Wilhelmina's, though the idiots at Fashion TV came a close second. Then, Betty came up with the entirely more plausible idea of Daniel taking her bed for the duration, whilst she slept on the couch.

Daniel's protests fell on deaf ears. Betty's decision was final. He looked to her father for some moral support, but the elder man merely shrugged. Clearly, Betty's word was law.

_To be continued..._

_**A/N: **__If you're interested, the song I imagined Betty humming at the sink was "Fairytale of New York" by the Pogues and Kirsty MacColl. If you imagined a different one, I'd be intrigued to know what it was!_

_From this point on the angst is really going to set in, as Betty and Daniel really have some thinking to do. Whilst this chapter was shorter than the first one, I'm hoping to keep them roughly the same length each time._


	3. I Don't Have The Right

**Strange Glue**

_**This chapter: **__Daniel and Betty do some thinking, and have an Important Conversation. Except, things don't quite go to plan…_

_**A/N: **__In this chapter it starts to get a little more interesting, and sets the ball rolling for the angst-fest to follow. I think people may have been expecting something a little more blue in the, er, other sense of the word, so I apologise in advance. ;) It is very slightly B/H-friendly at the start, but it can't be avoided at this stage. I can promise he won't appear in the fic in person, though. Enjoy. :)_

Chapter Three: I Don't Have The Right

Daniel simply could not get to sleep.

Betty's bed was comfortable enough, perhaps a little _too_ comfortable with its soft mattress and cosy duvet, yet despite his previous weariness, sleep completely failed to come.

The entire room was too… too _Betty_. From the Little Mermaid comforter to the stuffed rabbit he'd nearly crushed, everything in the room reminded him of exactly where he was and, ironically, exactly where he wasn't.

The pillow smelled of her shampoo; the borrowed pyjamas of familiar detergent; the room in general carried within it a pervading scent of her usual perfume. Whenever he closed his eyes and breathed in, his mind's eye filled with visions of his assistant.

Aside from all of that, the window was in a completely different place to where he was used to.

Daniel lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, watching the light play on the plastered surface as a car drove past outside. (That was another thing – he was far too close to the ground; there was a lot to be said about penthouse apartments.)

He thought about the last time he'd been in Betty's bed, when she'd rescued him from his drunken stupor and dragged him home with her to keep him safe, only to scare the living crap out of him seconds after he woke up. He smiled grimly to himself, remembering how his mind had tried to fill in the blanks and come up with nothing.

At the time, he hadn't really stopped to examine the various reactions he'd experienced at her little joke about their 'encounter' that night – or lack thereof, as it transpired. Since sleep was evidently going to evade him for the foreseeable, Daniel ran through those reactions again, in slow motion.

First: panic. Mostly because he didn't remember a thing, and also because he'd managed to prove his father right _again _by demonstrating that he was completely useless and had no self-control whatsoever.

Second: confusion. Why didn't he remember? He was fairly sure he would remember sleeping with Betty, because it wasn't like the thought had never crossed his mind before.

Third: wait, _what_? Daniel ignored that one. He'd go back to it later. Maybe.

Fourth: realisation. Betty was apparently more evil than he'd given her credit for, but clearly irreplaceable.

Fifth: relief. He was safe and sober, and he hadn't slept with Betty. Things were going to be okay.

Daniel knew all too well that any kind of romantic liaison with his latest assistant would spell trouble for him, even without Papa Meade (may he rest in peace) around to give him condescending looks. Betty was a great assistant, and more than that, she was a good friend. His best friend, if he really thought about it. He had never even entertained the notion of anything romantic or otherwise with Betty at any point, though his reasons had changed dramatically from pure shallowness to the overwhelming feeling that it would just be _wron_g. Daniel was never usually a man who listened to his conscience, except where Betty was concerned. Perhaps she _was_ his conscience. It might explain a few things.

Anyway, it would complicate things beyond reason, and besides that, Betty was fragile. The very last thing he wanted to do was see her hurt, especially by him. He would fight anyone and anything to keep her safe – including himself, if it came to it.

With a certain amount of trepidation, Daniel revisited the alien memory-thought from a few moments ago, to think about it properly. _Had_ he actually thought about her… in that way? Quite probably, even if it had never registered before now. It was possible that on some unconscious level deep in the darkest part of his brain, he had imagined what it would be like. He seemed to spend an awful lot of time thinking about Betty, even when he was nowhere near her – perhaps _more_ so when he wasn't near her.

There were only two possible reasons for this. Either they were working far too closely together for their own good – he was practically dependent on her, for goodness sake – or he was having feelings he most definitely should not have been having about her.

Wait. _What?_

Daniel sighed heavily. He was going around in ever-more-terrifying circles. Rolling over, he closed his eyes firmly against the Betty-rific room, and concentrated on _not_ thinking about her.

Instantly, with the essence of her all around him, her face flew into his mind – red-framed glasses and bright, beaming smile – and the only feeling he was aware of was his heart trying to jump out of his chest.

His eyes shot open again. He'd had no problem whatsoever identifying _that_ particular emotion, but he was struggling to explain it. Maybe he was just tired. Maybe it was just the room. Or maybe, just maybe…

He picked up his phone and pressed the speed-dial. There was some serious talking to be done.

—d-b—

Betty simply could not get to sleep.

The couch was not the most comfortable place in the world to be trying to achieve sleep, admittedly, but even when she'd found a place to put herself that wasn't too lumpy or pointy, various other distractions in the room kept her awake.

The curtains in the lounge didn't block out the light as effectively as those in her bedroom, and she was disturbed by passing headlights as they bounced off the ceiling, as well as the Christmas tree and Daniel's newly-decorated ornament, lying on the table. There were strange noises coming from the kitchen which she'd never noticed before – the stove was cooling down, the fridge hummed, and the back door rattled, plus all other varieties of clinking and clanking.

She rolled over to face the back of the couch to try and block the noise more effectively, but that only made her claustrophobic. She punched the cushion in frustration and struggled onto her back instead.

If only stupid Charlie hadn't called, none of this would be happening. She wanted to spend as much time with Henry as possible before he had to leave, and Charlie was only making things difficult – perhaps deliberately so. Betty was quite certain that if the situation was the other way around, she wouldn't be such an evil _perra_ about it. Not that Betty would be silly enough to have an affair _or_ get herself pregnant, of course…

She was beginning to think that Henry wasn't worth the effort. Of course, as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she dismissed it. She had spent so long wanting to be with Henry that the thought of being with him, even for such a brief period of time, had seemed wonderful. He was a good guy. A _nice_ guy.

But then, Walter had been a nice guy, too. And he had slept with someone else.

Betty wondered what it was about herself that made people do that. First Walter, then Henry.

_Don't be silly, Betty_, she reminded herself. _You__ were the other woman in that triangle. _But still, Henry couldn't exactly bring himself to break it off with Charlie. She could forgive him for wanting to be there for his child – she would have forced that of him in any case – but staying with Charlie, _not_ _mentioning_ Charlie, had been a bitter pill to swallow.

Well, at least she had a friendly face around in the form of Daniel. She didn't regret bringing him home with her – despite the sleeping arrangements – because she knew that no matter what, he was grateful. All Daniel needed right now was some kindness and warmth, to help him forget the fact that his family was falling apart at the seams. And if – God forbid – she found herself moping on Christmas Day, she could be sure that he would pull her out of it.

There was no use mulling it over. Henry was in Tucson for two weeks, and Daniel was upstairs. She would make the best of what she had, and enjoy Christmas, and she would make sure Daniel enjoyed Christmas, too, because he deserved it.

With this comforting thought, Betty closed her eyes and felt herself starting to drift off into slumber…

…until her phone started vibrating violently across the table and frightened the life out of her.

She scrambled to reach it and got caught up in the blanket, falling off the couch and landing in a heap on the floor. Untangling herself, she looked at the caller ID – Daniel's face stared back from the front of the phone and she frowned. What was he ringing her for at this time of night? In fact, why was he ringing her at all, when he was only upstairs?

She flipped it open and answered it in a whisper. "Daniel?"

His voice answered, equally hushed. "Sorry. Were you asleep?"

"Almost," she said. "I can't seem to drop off." Which was ironic, given her current position on the floor.

"I feel really guilty for stealing your bed," he said. "I'll swap if you want."

"You don't have to do that," she said, getting to her feet awkwardly.

"It's okay, I've slept on your couch before, remember?"

"That was different."

"I'm coming down there…"

She heard the distinct sound of movement on the other end of the line. "No, Daniel, don't you dare…" No answer; more movement, and the sound of overhead footsteps. "Don't make me come up there…" She saw her bedroom door open, a slight orange glow lighting the landing, and the call disconnected.

She grabbed her glasses and met him coming halfway down the stairs, his phone in one hand and the other grasping the banister. Betty, wrapped partially in the blanket, snapped her own phone shut, slipping it into the breast pocket of her pyjamas.

She continued speaking in hushed tones. "Daniel, I'm not switching with you. You're a guest."

"I didn't come down to switch," he said. "I… I just wanted to talk to you. I couldn't sleep." He sat down on the staircase and patted the space next to him, indicating for her to join him. It seemed a safe, neutral ground between their respective sleep-spaces. The stairs were dimly illuminated by the distant glow from her bedroom and the yellow light of the streetlamps through the porch windows.

Betty joined him, yawning a little. "Nor could I, really," she admitted.

"Thinking about Henry?" he asked.

"Kind of, yeah." She stared at her toes, even though they were concealed by the blanket. "I really miss him, you know… Which is crazy, in a way – he's only gone for a couple of weeks… It's just the time of year, that's all."

"I know what you mean." And he did know. His father's death would have been just as upsetting at any time of the year, but Christmas made it all the more poignant, and it had only been a few short weeks since the funeral. Daniel shivered in the chilly night-time air of the house, partly from the cold and partly to shake off the memory of his father's last hours in hospital.

"Here…" Betty was standing, offering him the blanket. Daniel took it from her, but ensconced them both within it, cocooning them. It was as warm as one of her hugs, and he felt instantly better; their bodies touched from shoulder to elbow, hip to knee.

"So… what did you want to talk about?" she asked.

He had forgotten his excuse for coming downstairs already, and struggled to come up with an answer. Shrugging, he said, "Anything. Prepare me for what happens here on the big day. I imagine it's quite different to what I'm used to."

Betty smiled. "It's nothing particularly special. Justin will wake us all up around 5.00am, Hilda will yell at him, we all roll downstairs around nine and Dad cooks breakfast, then we open the presents. Dinner is in the evening, and sometimes we have a singalong."

It all sounded very special to Daniel, though he could relate to Justin's role very well. He had been a 5.00am waker as well, when he was young.

"Do you need me to help with anything?" he asked. "I feel like a spare part."

"There's nothing, Daniel. I mean, you can ask to help with dinner if you want, but expect a harsh reprimand – the kitchen is off-limits to all but the chef." Daniel laughed a little, and she added, "Honestly, it's okay. You're our guest: just relax, and enjoy Christmas."

He looked away for a moment, picking at a stray thread on the blanket's edging. He had hoped to regain some semblance of sanity by seeing Betty, talking to her… but when faced by the object of his confusion in the flesh, that earlier, scary emotion only proved to make itself further known. He was certain his heart had skipped a few beats, and wondered if his father's heart condition was genetic…

"Betty, I…" He stopped. What could he say? Everything he could think of, from the subtly honest to the dashingly romantic, sounded ridiculous. It would come completely out of the blue as far as Betty was concerned. After all, she couldn't see inside his head, no matter how well she apparently seemed to read his mind.

"Yes?" she prompted.

"I want to thank you," he said, coming at the problem from a different angle. Betty began to protest, but he interrupted her. "No, really. You don't know what being here means to me."

"Of course I do," she told him. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't know this was precisely what you needed."

"I always feel like I'm part of your family when I come here." Daniel paused a moment. "But that's wrong, Betty. Because Henry should be here, not me."

"Try telling Charlie that," she said, bristling a little that he'd brought it up. "You _should_ be here, Daniel – somewhere with people who actually care about you. Unless you'd rather spend Christmas alone after all…"

He'd managed to upset her, which hadn't been his intention – he was going about this entirely the wrong way. Feeling a need to explain his reasoning, what little there was left, he said, "No, listen. I really shouldn't be here. Neither of us should expect your family to be so accommodating – let me finish! – and it's not fair to bring me here without at least consulting them first. It just doesn't sit right with me. And it's certainly not fair on Henry. How do you think he'll react when he finds out?"

"I suppose…"

"I don't think you're being fair on yourself, either."

"How do you mean?"

Daniel cringed – now her defences were up. "I mean, you've effectively filled the gaping hole in your plans with second best… I know you'd rather spend Christmas with your boyfriend than your boss."

Betty realised that Daniel was beginning to think her motives were entirely selfish. "That's not it at all!" she protested. "I will admit that I didn't want to be alone – not on-my-own alone, but you know… " She shook off the rambling explanation, adding, "But I swear, Daniel, I did this for _you_."

Betty sought out his hand under the blanket, squeezing it, but Daniel sighed and pulled from her grasp. He scraped both palms over his face.

"That's not fair, Betty."

She looked thoroughly puzzled. "What? Now I'm confused – so I'm not being fair to you, either? Did I miss something?"

He stared at her. "I think we both missed something."

Betty met his gaze for a moment, trying to fathom what he was thinking, but her own brain was too fuzzy. She blinked, and the moment was lost. Shaking her head, she asked, "What are you talking about?"

"I don't think I can stay here."

"Why, because of the Henry thing? Please, Daniel, I've already tried to explain…"

"It's not because of that," he clarified. "I just…" He struggled to find the words, and gave up, shaking his head. "God, I'm a mess. I should never have come down here."

"Can you please tell me what's happening here? I feel like I lost the conversation about five minutes ago."

"Sorry."

"Why don't you want to stay?" She hoped a direct question would be more forthcoming.

Daniel sighed again. "It's not that I don't want to. I just can't."

"…And we're back to confused."

Betty gave up. Daniel was going in circles, and she was too tired to make any sense of it. She stared absently around – at the floor, through the banisters – and waited for him to speak again. She felt her eyes start to become heavier, her head start to drop…

"Betty?"

Snapping awake again, she looked up to find Daniel staring across at her. How long had she been asleep? Nothing seemed to have changed, and he still seemed troubled.

"Yes?"

He gazed at her intently, and Betty found herself being drawn in. His blue eyes were dark in the dim light, and she was finding it impossible to read his thoughts – there was nothing to go on. Daniel's gaze seemed to drift over her face, never quite settling, before eventually meeting her eyes again.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

The whispered question, almost inaudible, surprised her. She stammered, but no answer would form to his rhetorical question. Daniel seemed to be drawing in closer, and she froze, holding her breath, half-terrified of what seemed about to happen.

Daniel knew deep down that what he was about to do was incredibly stupid, but he was already beyond the point of logic or reason. His every sense was full of Betty, her big eyes staring at him in a kind of horrified wonder.

He reached up to touch her face, cupping her cheek with his hand, and her eyes closed. Their noses touched. Betty breathed out.

Their lips met, and Daniel knew.

He knew that this was a moment he would have to savour. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was completely in love with Betty Suarez. And he knew, as surely as he knew his own name, that he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Betty leaned back and Daniel went with her, caught up in the moment. Then her hand planted itself in the middle of his chest and gave a firm push, and he realised that she was trying to escape. Reluctantly, he pulled away, not wanting to look at her for fear of what he might find in her face. When he did eventually find the courage, she didn't seem particularly angry with him – merely disappointed and confused.

His hand lingered on her cheek, where he caressed the skin for a second, trying to read her expression.

"I'm sorry," he said. "That shouldn't have happened."

Betty said nothing, just stared at him, unable to form a coherent thought. Her mind was reeling, lips tingling, not quite believing what had just happened.

Daniel let her go and got to his feet, pausing to wrap his half of the blanket around her. Then, silently, he walked back up the stairs to her room.

Betty hugged the blanket around herself. _Daniel just kissed me_, she thought. She didn't know what it meant. She wanted to talk to him, to make him explain… but was equally terrified of what he might say, what he'd been trying to say all night, which was now screaming obviously through her brain. _Oh, no…_ Of course, she realised it now, when it was too late to do anything about it…

He re-emerged, closing the bedroom door quietly behind him, having changed back into his suit. Carefully, he descended the stairs. Betty watched in a silent stupor as he passed her, reached the front door, and paused.

"You see why I can't stay?"

She managed a nod and a vague noise of affirmation, but still barely comprehended what was going on. Was Daniel _leaving_?

"I'm so sorry, Betty."

He opened the door, and was gone.

She stared at the closed door in disbelief, feeling broken and empty. Slamming her eyes shut against the tears that suddenly threatened, she tried to make sense of the situation. Her thoughts of a pleasant Christmas had been thwarted a second time, and Daniel Meade – her boss, her best friend, her thoroughly confusing pest of an Editor in Chief – had just turned her entire universe on its head.

The door remained closed. She had half-expected him to come running back, apologising, explaining, doing _something_ to help her make sense of it… but five minutes passed, and he did not return.

Betty rested her head against the banister rail, and wondered what she would tell her family in the morning. Everything felt heavy; her brain thoroughly mangled. Her eyes closed of their own volition, casting her into a dreamless sleep, and the memory of Daniel's kiss lingered heavily in the air like an all-consuming fog.

_To be continued…_

_**A/N: **__I did warn you about the angst…_

_There was going to be a little scene tagged on the end following Daniel after he'd left the house, but it didn't feel right. I will more than likely put it in the next chapter. As for this chapter, I wrote the first draft of their conversation in the early hours of the morning whilst half-asleep (arguably the best kind of writing conditions), so I apologise if it seems strange in any way. I tried to make more sense of it in the re-write, but I'm not sure if I managed it…_

_Anyway. Reviews are like sweet, sweet candy. Feed me, Seymour. ;)_


	4. Alone With No Saviour

**Strange Glue**

_**This chapter: **__Daniel and Betty consider what happened the night before, and try to get through the rest of the holiday unscathed._

_**A/N: **__Firstly, I must apologies for the delay in getting this chapter out. As I mentioned elsewhere, I wanted to get "Rain…" done and dusted before carrying on with this story, and then that little epilogue came along and demanded an outlet. As both of those stories are now wrapped up, I can get on with finishing this one… I'm also trying to stay one chapter ahead of myself to avoid an unnecessary hiatus and potential unfinished status of this fic, which explains the further delay - this chapter has been finished for some time but I've been waiting until the next one is in a finishable state before posting. As chapter five is nearly done now, I've decided to post this before people forget about the story. :)_

_Okay, then. From herein lies angst, and angst there shall remain for at least another five chapters. It will have a happy ending, though, I promise. I seem to find getting into Daniel's head a lot easier, for some reason (which is odd, because I can relate to Betty in a lot of ways), but I will try my very best to put Betty's side of this little story across, as it's really a story about the both of them. That being said – enjoy._

Chapter Four: Alone With No Saviour

_24__th__ December, 2007_

Daniel awoke in his own bed at some point in the morning, feeling groggy and hung-over. For a moment, he couldn't remember the night before. Then, it all came flooding back in horrible, graphic detail.

After he'd left the Suarezes' house, Daniel had only got as far as the next block before he stopped. The cold night air had knocked some sense back into him, but unfortunately it had come rather too late. Sitting down on the kerb, he buried his head in his hands and groaned at his stupidity.

_Idiot, idiot, IDIOT._

He didn't know what had possessed him to kiss her, other than she was _there_, and she was _Betty_, and those two reasons had seemed more than enough. It had been a terrible mistake, no doubt about it. For God's sake, she was with Henry, and had invited him to her home out of the goodness of her amazingly good heart, only to have him leap on her in the middle of the night.

Well, not quite. But she definitely hadn't been expecting it, that much was certain.

Even so, he was quite sure she had been kissing him back, right before she pushed him away.

He shook off the memory. Thinking about it was making him want to go back there, and he'd already made enough stupid decisions for one night. No, what Daniel really wanted to do now was get very, very drunk and find some random blonde female-shaped thing to spend the night with, drowning his sorrows the only way he knew how.

He took note of the street names, and called for a cab to take him to a bar.

He remembered arriving at a seedy club and paying the driver's fare, and also drinking several cocktails, but beyond that things were rather a blur. He was somewhat relieved, in retrospect, to note that his bed was empty except for himself – he was struck with a vague memory of chickening out at the last minute as the image of Betty's disappointed face flooded his vision. Well, that was something, at least. He would only have hated himself otherwise.

Declaring Christmas officially a write-off, Daniel forced himself out of bed, showered and dressed, fully intending to go to work. That had, after all, been his initial intention before Betty had invited him home.

He decided to walk, letting the chilly December air wake him up. He bought a coffee on the way – it didn't taste quite the same when it wasn't presented alongside his usual bagel – and spent the journey mulling over, once again, the night before.

The sudden realisation of being in love with her had hit him between the eyes when it happened, but the more he thought about it, the less sudden it began to seem. Daniel had been feeling things for his assistant for a lot longer than that; it was simply last night that he'd finally had time to acknowledge them, when he was completely surrounded by her. Now, he might very well have ruined any chance he could have had with her, through his own over-reaction.

Daniel didn't begin to presume that she felt the same way about him. He probably wasn't even her type – oh, yes, even Daniel Meade could admit that he wasn't _everyone's_ type. She liked sensible, safe, slightly dorky-looking guys like Henry. Guys who were low-maintenance and didn't screw up. Guys who didn't hurt or disappoint her.

_Wait a minute…_

Henry didn't exactly fit into that last category. But then again, neither did Daniel.

—d-b—

"Aunt Betty?"

She awoke to Justin's concerned voice as he stood beside her on the staircase. She moved a little, her neck aching and her back twisted unnaturally.

"What are you doing there?"

She surveyed her surroundings, realising that she'd managed to fall asleep on the stairs. The memory struck of only a few short hours ago, of Daniel, and…

"Oh," she said, trying to think of something to say. "I… I must have been sleep-walking."

"You look exhausted," said Justin. Betty struggled to her feet, wincing at the pain. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine…"

Nevertheless, Justin helped her down the stairs, grasping her arm protectively. Betty collapsed on the sofa, feeling the aftermath of her short sleep and her garbled thoughts. Her head was pounding and she felt as though she was suffering with the worst hangover known to man, despite the fact she hadn't touched a drop of alcohol all night.

Justin took in her haggard appearance and politely decided not to mention it. "I'm going to get a drink. Do you want anything?"

She shook her head, and her nephew headed for the kitchen.

Early-morning sunlight streamed through the kitchen window and she glanced at the clock – 8.00am. She yawned widely and lay down, fully intending to get some more sleep before the rest of her family woke up. She would deal with Daniel's disappearance later; right now she needed some rest.

Justin joined her in the lounge again shortly afterwards with a glass of milk, and perched on the end of the sofa, reaching for the television remote. Off her look, he said, "Don't worry, I'll keep it down." True to his word, he turned the volume practically down to nothing and sat forwards to hear it better.

Betty thanked whoever was listening for blessing her with her family, and covered her head with the blanket. As she drifted in and out of a light sleep, she briefly wondered if Daniel was okay.

—d-b—

Daniel had reached the Meade building. His wandering thoughts were effectively silenced by the fact that, for some reason, the main doors were locked. He banged and shouted, but there was nobody around.

Annoyed that even this plan had been ultimately thwarted, Daniel took out his phone and called his sister. She picked up after a few rings.

"Hello?"

"Alexis, what gives?"

"Daniel? What are you talking about?" She sounded tired; he'd probably woken her up. After all, it was Christmas Eve. Daniel decided he didn't care: he had bigger problems.

"I'm at work – why is the building locked?"

"Oh…" She yawned, the continued. "Well, the fact that you told everyone at _Mode_ not to come back until January got through the grapevine to all the other floors, so I had no choice but to shut up shop until then." She didn't sound particularly impressed by this turn of events. "Nice moves."

"You closed Meade Enterprises for Christmas?" he asked, surprised and a little amused.

"That's exactly it."

"That's _stupid_." It wasn't exactly the best course of action for the newly-appointed CEO.

"_You_ didn't give me much of a choice, Danny-boy."

"It's hardly my fault, Alexis. I chose to send my staff home for Christmas, you didn't have to do the same for everyone."

She could hardly argue with that. Bradford would never have folded so easily. "What are you doing there, anyway? You do realise it's Christmas Eve…"

"Christmas is cancelled this year." He realised that he sounded rather like a petulant child, but – if he was honest – he was feeling like one.

"O…kay." There was a pause. "Did… something happen?"

"No. Everything's fine."

Alexis seemed to soften a little. "Listen, just go home. You can't save _Mode_ on your own."

He knew she was talking sense, and besides, he couldn't exactly do any work from outside the building. "I guess you're right." _As always_, he thought.

"Okay, then." After a pause, Alexis added, "Merry Christmas."

"Yeah," he said, not really feeling inclined to say it back, and ended the call.

He stood and stared at the building for a few minutes. It was wrong to take his frustration out on his sister, but there was nobody else to call. Nobody except Betty, and it was calling her last night which had caused the whole mess.

Daniel began the walk back to his apartment, his hands stuffed in his pockets, kicking at tin cans. Only yesterday he had been excited about Christmas, knowing it would be one to remember… and, like everything good that ever came into his life, he had managed to screw it up.

He hoped more than anything that Betty would forgive him, but he was scared the line had been crossed. Things would never be the same between them now; he doubted she would even be able to look at him again, much less offer the same affectionate comfort as he was used to. He desperately wanted one of her hugs right now. Either one of Betty's, or one of his mother's, and both were equally out of reach.

They would have to talk about this, like grown-ups, and Daniel knew he would have to be the one who initiated first contact on the issue.

Back at his apartment, he considered calling her, staring longingly at the phone. In the end, he decided against it. It was too soon. She would need time to think, and he needed to clear his head before he tried to hold a sensible conversation with her.

Tomorrow was Christmas. He'd call her then.

—d-b—

The second time Betty awoke, it was to the sound of the rest of her family coming downstairs. She felt only marginally more rested, but at least her neck had stopped aching.

Her father immediately set about making breakfast, and Hilda sat down on the couch as Betty sat up, stretching a little.

"That boss of yours sleeps like a rock," she said. "I was knocking on the door for five minutes, and nothing."

Betty tried to think of something to say, but realised there was only so long she could prevent the inevitable. With a sigh, she said, "That's because he left."

Justin tore his gaze from the Fashion TV broadcast and stared at her. Hilda's mouth fell open, and Ignacio appeared in the kitchen doorway, clad in an apron and brandishing a cooking utensil in a manner that might have been threatening under the wrong circumstances. It was the eldest Suarez who broke the silence.

"What? When?"

"Last night," she said, though she thought it was quite obvious. "He tried to sneak out and leave a note, but I couldn't sleep, so…" She hoped this sounded convincing.

"Why?" asked Justin, crestfallen.

"He just wasn't comfortable, I think, for a lot of reasons. He said to thank you all for being so kind and to apologise on his behalf."

Ignacio seemed to spot that there was something awry with the story, but he didn't push her. Betty would open up in her own time, if there was anything to tell.

"Are you okay, mija?"

"Me? I'm fine. A little disappointed, I suppose, but… I guess I can understand."

Justin picked up the glitter-encrusted cardboard angel that they'd decorated the night before. "But he never got to hang this up," he said.

His expression was so puppy-dog sad that Betty reached over to give him a hug. "I know, Justin. I know…" As she gave her nephew a reassuring squeeze, Betty had to fight to stem her tears. Releasing him again and pretending to yawn, she put on a brave face and tried to make light of the situation. "At least I can have my own bed back."

"That's true," agreed Hilda. "It's a shame, though. He's a fine-looking-"

"Hilda…" Ignacio cut her off with a warning tone.

"What?" She tutted, rolled her eyes. "Oh, fine. I won't mention it."

Hilda turned her attention to the television, ignoring Justin's protests as she changed the channel, and Ignacio returned to the kitchen. Betty sat quietly for a moment, then got to her feet.

"I need to get dressed," she stated, heading upstairs.

Once she was safely within the confines of her room, Betty felt herself relax a little, no longer having to lie to her family or put on a front. As she gazed around the room, subtle evidence of Daniel's presence caused a deluge of emotions to come rushing at her.

He had made the bed before leaving, placing her stuffed rabbit neatly in the middle of the pillow. The pile of borrowed clothes – pyjamas included – were folded neatly and placed on the chair to her dresser.

Betty threw herself onto the bed in exhaustion. The pillow smelled of Daniel's aftershave. Before she had time to think about her reaction, she was sobbing uncontrollably, all of the confusion, upset and frustration from the night before pouring out of her.

Plenty of people had reduced Betty to tears in her life: school bullies, _Mode_ staff, even her boyfriends… but the one person she had never anticipated to do the same was Daniel, despite the somewhat rocky start to their working relationship. She had hoped they were on safe ground now.

She regained some control over herself after a while, and began to half-heartedly find something to wear. She felt a little better for getting things out of her system, but she would have to wash her face thoroughly to get rid of her puffy eyes. She knew it would do no good at all to get upset over what happened. Daniel _clearly_ had some issues to work through, and they obviously had a lot of talking to do.

She sat down at her dresser, moving the clothes out of the way, and began to brush the tangles out of her hair, thinking about things more clearly with each tug.

Daniel had kissed her. That was a given. She might even have begun to kiss him back, but luckily logic had prevailed before her heart could take over. She thought that leaving – fleeing, really – was a coward's way out, but he had seemed just as confused by his actions as she was.

The apology had also puzzled her. Whoever apologised for kissing someone? And then, there'd been that totally unreadable expression on his face, their cryptic conversation…

Her mind reeled for a moment as she remembered what he'd asked her. _"Do you have any idea what you do to me?"_ What was _that_ supposed to mean? All the signs were leading to the somewhat frightening conclusion that Daniel might be harbouring feelings for her. He'd as much as outright admitted that he _wanted_ her, for crying out loud.

Betty examined her reflection in the mirror. _No_, she thought. _Don't be so silly_. After all, what could someone like Daniel Meade possibly see in someone like Betty Suarez? She was just Betty. Just frumpy, short, ugly Betty, with glasses and braces and uncontrollable hair. Daniel went for… well, models. Which Betty quite emphatically was not.

He was clearly out of his mind. She suspected he'd been out of his mind for quite a while, though, so that wasn't much of a bother. What worried her was that he seemed Hell-bent on taking her with him.

—d-b—

Later that evening, Daniel was halfway down a bottle of red wine and gazing absently at the television, not really paying it any attention. He'd found the bottle in a cupboard, left over from some party or another, and decided it to be a better plan than his initial whisky idea.

He was already beginning to feel the alcohol's sleepy effects and had almost totally zoned out, as his mind began to wander. Some deeply-buried still-sober part of his brain knew that thinking about anything meaningful whilst half-cut was a bad plan, but Daniel ignored it. He wanted to think, no matter how miserable it might make him afterwards.

He simply couldn't stop thinking about the night before, in Betty's house, on her staircase. The day had started off fairly normally – or at least as normal as _Mode_ ever got in the middle of a crisis – and had taken stranger and stranger turns from the moment Betty had stepped into his office.

Daniel hadn't expected the floodgates to open when she'd hugged him, but something about her warm, comforting arms wrapping around him had touched an already raw nerve. He had felt so completely safe in that moment – he'd managed to make Betty smile again, and if Betty was smiling then the universe was correctly aligned – and it was the one thing to send his shredded emotions over the edge.

He remembered clinging to her as if his life depended on it, unable and unwilling to let her disappear in his sudden moment of fragility, and then hiding his face in her shoulder in a futile attempt to stem the tears. Vividly, he could still recall the scent of her perfume, the soft fabric of her cardigan, the almond smell of her shampoo, and his own ragged sobbing as he tried desperately to regain control.

Daniel laughed at himself now, in retrospect, and took another long swig of the wine, finishing his second glass of the evening before pouring another. His thoughts wandered further ahead, to that fateful incident on the stairs…

He still couldn't place where the urge to kiss her had come from, but he supposed it was simply easier than trying to form words, as they'd been effectively failing him all evening.

He wondered for a moment how far she might have let things go, then immediately tore his wandering brain from the thought. Betty was a good girl – a _sensible _girl. She had most definitely pushed him away, practically before he'd even had a chance to realise what he was doing. And then, that look on her face: so scared and lost. So _disappointed_.

Daniel wasn't supposed to disappoint her any more. It was a personal pledge. Impress her; surprise her, most definitely; never disappoint.

The television volume suddenly broke his reverie as it increased for the commercial break – why couldn't they ever get the levels right? An infomercial for one of those pointless dating chatlines came on and Daniel burst out laughing. Mostly he attributed this to the booze, but also the sheer irony.

Oh, yes – he was completely, head over heels in love with Betty. He couldn't pinpoint why, or how, or when – but he was.

His plan had now changed from calling her up on Christmas Day to turning up unannounced. At the very least, that way she would find it much harder to avoid him. Besides, she needed to receive the present he'd spent hours trying to find, and for everything he'd said to her about Christmas not having to be on December 25th, he really felt she should open it on the day.

Then he remembered the one fatal flaw in his foolproof plan.

Henry.

He could throw all the romance he was able to muster at the situation, but Betty would still be with Henry. He held out no hope of being able to change that, not in a million years.

Daniel swirled his wine glass thoughtfully. There had to be some way out of this mess. He'd managed to get himself out of worse.

Wait. Correction. _Betty_ had got him out of worse.

He was officially doomed.

_To be continued…_

_**A/N:**__ So, nothing very much happens here really as it's a filler before the good stuff in the next few chapters. Unfortunately chapter five is pretty much the same formula... but at least there's some introspection, and that's always fun, right?_

_Revieeeew, my pretties…_


	5. My Demons, I Clothe Them

**Strange Glue**

_**This Chapter:**__ Betty and Daniel enjoy their very different Christmas experiences; old wounds are opened; new ones are healed…_

_**A/N: **__All right, this is hopefully a slightly more interesting chapter, although it's still mostly filler before the good stuff starts again in the next chapter. Still, at least __something__ happens in this one, so it's better than the last one for that reason. ;) Still no D/B interaction, though; be patient, my lovelies._

Chapter Five: My Demons, I Clothe Them

_25__th__ December, 2007_

Christmas morning at the Suarez house was the usual affair of raucous present-opening, delicious-smelling food cooking in the kitchen, and holiday-season television. As Betty had described, Justin had woken the entire household at 5.00am, been sent back to bed by Hilda, and tried again three hours later. They had indulged in a large breakfast, opened their presents, and were now milling around waiting for Ignacio to finish preparing dinner.

Justin was engrossed in a book about the history of Broadway and wearing the matching hat and scarf which Betty had picked out for him, despite the warmth of the house, whilst Hilda was eagerly reading the instructions on a lethal-looking pair of styling tongs with various attachments that her family had clubbed together to buy for her. Ignacio had received some shiny new cooking utensils and a novelty apron – which he was already putting to good use – and a mix CD from his grandson proclaiming to be a 'starter kit' in his apparent upcoming initiation into the wonderful world of musical theatre.

Betty had also received thoughtful gifts from her family. She, too, had been given a mix CD from Justin, although the songs were different. He had named it his "chicks' mix"; Betty couldn't decide if he'd inherited her flair for wordplay, or merely his mother's bad punning. From her sister, there were some girly bath things and a piece of paper reading "I.O.U. 1 tree", whilst her father had bought her a recipe book. ("You'll have to learn eventually," he'd explained.)

The joyfulness of the day, however, was marred by the single remaining gift that sat unopened and forlorn beneath the pink glow of the tree. The small box seemed to Betty to be silently mocking her with its continued presence. Her present for her boss had been sitting under the tree since its purchase a week ago; her present for Henry was under _Henry's_ tree at his apartment, to open on his return from Charlie's parents. She couldn't help but feel that there should be a present waiting for her from Daniel, and all thoughts of the presumptuousness of this sentiment were overshadowed by her misery at his departure.

Twenty-four hours had been and gone since the Staircase Incident, and she had not yet plucked up the courage to contact him. For the same reason, her cellphone had remained off for the duration of Christmas Eve, and would doubtless remain so until at least January. (She wasn't sure if Daniel had her home number, but had eventually decided that unplugging the landline was taking things too far, not to mention unfair on her family.)

As much as Betty knew that she and Daniel needed to talk, she simply couldn't find the nerve to make the first move. She suspected that Daniel was feeling just as anxious and awkward about what had happened, if not even more so, and it was really _his_ issues that were clouding things. Betty was quite clear about how _she_ felt; what she wasn't sure was how _Daniel_ felt.

Except, of course, he'd made it more than obvious. She wasn't exactly experienced in such things, but Betty knew the difference between a chaste kiss between friends and something which implied more, and Daniel's kiss – as brief as it had been – was most definitely not the former. She remembered with absolute clarity how close he had drawn to her, the way her breath had hitched in her throat in fearful anticipation, and that split second on contact when she'd almost forgotten herself…

"Betty, are you okay?" Hilda's voice snapped her back to the present. "You seem to've gone red."

She now realised a blush had risen in her cheeks, and covered her face self-consciously with both hands.

"I'm just warm", she said. "I think I'll get some water."

A minute later her head was enveloped in the soothing coolness of the refrigerator, and this, too, was painfully familiar. She mentally cursed Daniel for completely invading her brain, and made an executive decision in that moment. He wasn't going to ruin her Christmas any more.

"I'm going to call Henry."

So saying, she closed the refrigerator door with determination, and headed for the telephone.

—d-b—

Daniel paused with his hand on the doorlatch, as he talked himself in and out of leaving the apartment for the sixth time. As anticipated, his drunken decision the previous night to turn up unannounced at Betty's house now seemed considerably less plausible. There was always a chance he could save the situation before he made it worse. He had yet to decide, however, whether seeing her would save them, or condemn them.

With a final, decisive nod, he finally pulled open the door.

He had barely stepped over the threshold when the phone began to ring. He considered ignoring it and carrying on, but was struck by the notion that it might be Betty. She did, after all, have an uncanny ability to read his mind, and it would be just like her to call up at exactly the right time. But it seemed Daniel wanted to surprise her more desperately than he'd thought, if his hesitation was anything to go by. After dithering about it for another five rings, he then closed the door again and ran to answer it.

"Yes? I'm here, don't hang up!"

"It's me, Daniel." His sister's voice greeted his ears. Trying to suppress his disappointment, he attempted to sound nonchalant.

"Morning, Alexis."

"No need to sound so disappointed."

_Damn_. She had an uncanny knack of being able to see – or, in this case, hear – right through him. What was it about all the women in his life that they could do that?

"Sorry. I was… expecting someone else."

"Mom," she surmised. He didn't argue with her, and Alexis took his silence as affirmation, continuing with an explanation. "She was only allowed one phonecall today and she decided to use it on me."

"I see." That made sense to Daniel. Last Christmas, Claire only had one son left, so obviously this year she wanted to lavish as much attention as possible on Alexis. Still, he felt a pang of jealousy.

"She told me to tell you to get your butt over to my place and spend Christmas with me," instructed Alexis. She was met with silence from the younger Meade. "So that's what I'm doing."

"I'd rather not," said Daniel. "I… I have somewhere I need to be."

"Somewhere so important you need to go there on Christmas Day?"

"Yes."

"Cut the crap, Danny." She gave an exasperated sigh of impatience. "Okay, look… Mom's right. With things the way they are right now, we should spend Christmas with what little family we have left, and that just leaves the two of us… I know things have been difficult, Daniel, but… come on, what do you say?"

Daniel knew she was talking sense, and that annoyed him more than if she'd been wrong. He put his hand in his pocket and grasped the small present he'd bought for Betty, and which he'd been intending to take over to her house. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea. She probably needed more time, and if he was honest, so did he.

"I'll see you in an hour."

Alexis offered a phrase of thanks, but it was lost to him putting the receiver down. Heaving a sigh, he moved to a drawer and pulled out another small, wrapped item and a card, placed them into his pocket, and headed to the front door. With Betty's present still in his other pocket, he stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.

—d-b—

Betty had settled herself snugly at the top of the staircase so as not to be disturbed whilst making her phonecall. She clutched a scrap of paper in one hand, upon which was scribbled the telephone number of Charlie's parents' home in Tucson. Betty had written it down grudgingly, still annoyed by Henry's announcement, but was now quite glad that she had.

Nevertheless, she had been sitting there for nearly five minutes without managing to dial the number. She didn't want to run the risk of speaking to Charlie, because she wasn't sure she'd be able to hold her tongue. Equally, she wasn't sure how to explain who she was when Charlie's parents answered and inevitably wanted to know.

_Okay, Betty. Come on. Just dial._

She took a deep breath and quickly punched the numbers into the handset, and held her breath as the other end rang. Once; twice; three times. She chewed on her bottom lip, half of her hoping nobody would answer, and the other half desperately wanting to speak to Henry now that she'd made the decision to do so.

Another five rings sounded in her ear and she let out her held breath in a sigh of frustration. Just as she was about to hang up, a male voice picked up.

"Hello and a very merry Christmas to whoever is calling!"

The voice sounded cheerfully inebriated, and Betty could just about hear the sounds of a family Christmas in the background. Momentarily stunned by the man's telephone manner, Betty hesitated, then decided to get it over with.

"Um, hello… is Henry there?"

"Why, yes, he is. Who may I say is calling?"

"It's… it's Betty. Um. I'm his, uh… cousin." She cringed; she was a terrible liar. Luckily enough, the man (whom she assumed to be Charlie's father) didn't seem to notice.

"I'll just go and get him."

She heard the receiver being placed down onto a hard surface and presumably-Charlie's-father called Henry's name. Betty could only imagine the look on Charlie's face as her name was mentioned, and it gave her some small pleasure to know that she'd given her a little taste of her own medicine.

The receiver was picked up again, and Henry's voice filtered through.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Henry, it's me."

He started to speak in a somewhat hushed whisper. "What are you doing? I thought I said only to ring me in an emergency."

Betty's throat felt slightly tighter, but she smiled down the receiver to keep up a front. "It's Christmas," she said. "I missed you."

When Henry spoke again, he seemed a little more relaxed. "I know, I miss you, too, but… Betty, I can't really talk right now."

"Oh, I know, I just… wanted to hear your voice." _I'm having a horrible Christmas,_ she wanted to say, but the reason why would not make the best conversation.

"I'm sorry about this…" said Henry, for what seemed to Betty to be the millionth time. "I'd much rather be there with you." There was an empty pause. "How is everyone?"

"Oh, we're all great," she said. "It's nice and relaxed. Plus, I have the rest of the holiday off. Daniel shut down the magazine for Christmas."

"That's good," he said. "I was worried you were working too hard."

"Hey, that reminds me. Someone gave me this really good idea for when you get back…"

"What's that?"

Betty explained Daniel's idea of celebrating Christmas despite the day having passed, but didn't indicate that it was his idea. The mere mention of his name earlier had seemed to cause an automatic meltdown in Henry's meagre conversational tone, and she didn't want to get into another pointless argument. She had hoped her telephone call would be better received, but was now beginning to feel decidedly stupid for not realising that he wouldn't be able to talk to her with Charlie nearby.

She paused hopefully, and Henry answered. "Hmm… Yeah. That does sound like a good idea. But it'll have to be before the sixth, because I don't like having the tree up past then… it's bad luck."

"Fair enough…" Henry would be back before then; they'd have plenty of time.

With Henry accepting the idea, she was starting to feel a little cheerier and settled back to have a chat with him, except then he hastily said, "Hold on a second," and seemed to cover the receiver with his hand. The next exchange was fuzzy, but she could just barely hear it.

"Henry, _dearest_, we're about to serve dessert," said Charlie's voice, dangerously chirpy, seeming to come from some distance away.

"I'll be right there, honey," he said back.

Betty knew it was a front. He was just playing the role of the dutiful boyfriend, father of the impending grandchild, pleasant Christmas guest… but nevertheless, the endearment sliced like a knife through her heart. When he addressed her again, her thoughts of a pleasant conversation, no matter how brief, were dashed.

"I… I have to go."

"Okay." She felt her eyes brim with tears, but somehow managed to hold them back.

He didn't seem to hear the tremor in her voice. "I'll see you soon."

"Yep."

"'Bye."

"'Bye." She paused. "And Merry Christm-" The line went dead.

Charlie had been watching, Betty knew. Waiting for Henry to slip up and say something incriminating like "I love you"… but nevertheless, Betty felt stung and heartbroken that he hadn't said anything. Henry's "honey" kept ringing in her ears like a playground taunt, and despite her best efforts a ragged sob escaped from her throat. She brought her knees to her chest and buried her head in her arms in an effort to stifle it, but her grief seemed to go unnoticed, as, from below, the sounds of her family enjoying Christmas floated up through the banister. Justin's excited giggles as he discovered something interesting in his book; Hilda commentating on the television show; her father humming as he cooked.

Betty felt overwhelmingly alone.

She reached into her pocket for her cell phone and flipped it open, her thumb hovering over the power button. Her distraught mind registered only that she needed to hear a friendly voice, tell someone her problems… but her innate selflessness immediately discouraged her from ringing Christina at a time like this. Besides which, turning on the phone brought with it the associated fear of Daniel's imminent contact.

She snapped the device shut again and cast it aside, quickly followed by the now screwed-up paper bearing Charlie's parents' number. She desperately needed a hug. Her anguished brain felt too big for her skull, the pressure almost unbearable. All she could think about was Daniel's tender gesture at the office when she'd told him about Henry, Daniel walking with her to the house, Daniel helping with the washing up, Daniel sitting beside her on the stairs, Daniel kissing her and then walking away…

Betty glanced at the front door and willed it to open, willed him to walk back through as though nothing had happened… It remained firmly closed. She ran to her bedroom and soaked her pillow with bitter tears for the second time in as many days, whilst her family continued oblivious to her plight. After all – she didn't want to worry them.

—d-b—

Alexis's earlier suspicion that there was something wrong with her brother was confirmed by his arrival half an hour or so later. After buzzing him up to her apartment and waiting by the front door for him to emerge from the elevator, it was plainly obvious that a black cloud had followed him all the way from his own building to hers. Ordinarily she would have made some kind of snarky comment about it, but the look on his face indicated they'd _both_ end up having a horrible time if she did. Besides: it was Christmas.

"Come on in," she said, waving him through. Daniel trudged over the threshold and shrugged out of his coat, which Alexis took and hung on a nearby hook. For a moment, he didn't say a word. That is, until a timer began beeping from another room and distracted him.

"I'll be right back," said Alexis, running off to attend to the timer and whatever was cooking. "Make yourself at home."

At this point, Daniel finally took in his surroundings, realising that he'd never seen Alexis's apartment before. It was quite the opposite he would ever have expected of his brother; despite the minimalist décor (which was clearly a trend in designers these days) there were definite female touches: a vase of flowers, softer colours, voile at the windows instead of Venetian blinds, and the smell of a home-cooked dinner wafting from the kitchen.

Or rather, the smell of a home-burnt one.

A distinctive "Dammit!" emanated from the other room and Daniel allowed himself to smirk. Clearly Alexis wasn't as confident a chef as she was a born leader.

She emerged again wearing a pair of oven mitts and an expression of annoyed disappointment.

"I hope you like your vegetables crispy."

"I'm sure they're fine."

"They're as black as Wilhelmina's soul," she proffered. "It's your call."

The smirk turned into a small laugh, Daniel's dark mood starting to lift. Alexis pointed him in the direction of the living area and sat him down on the couch.

"The rest of lunch will hopefully be ready in an hour," she told him. "Do you want a drink? I've got pretty much everything."

Daniel's mouth was still slightly fuzzy from the previous night's wine. "Water would be fine for now," he said. "Thanks."

Whilst Alexis busied herself with getting him a drink, Daniel continued his visual appraisal of her living space. The lounge area was similar in style to the rest of the apartment, with a soft rug on the floor and a couple of bookcases with actual books on them. The television was off, but he noticed for the first time the sound of quiet Christmas music coming from the expensive-looking entertainment system.

There was a small but well-decorated tree in one corner, adorned with coloured lights and a fairy on top, and a small array of presents underneath its branches.

When his sister returned with a glass of water, he said, "You didn't go to all this trouble just for me, did you?"

She sipped her own drink, some kind of cocktail. "_Some_ of us still have our Christmas spirit, Daniel. I admit I wasn't going to cook a full-blown dinner just for myself, but… well, Mom wants us to have a family Christmas, and I'm trying my best."

He gave a nod. "Did she sound okay?"

"As good as can be expected, I guess." With a smile, she added, "Her dinner will probably be nicer than ours, at this rate."

"Do you need any help?"

Alexis gave him a look. "I think I'm more than capable of poisoning us on my own, thank you." At that, Daniel rolled his eyes. His older sibling would always doubt his abilities, even when they were meant to be nice to each other.

Alexis joined him on the couch.

"So," she said, "what was so desperately important that you nearly blew me off?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. It doesn't matter."

"It was a lot more important than 'nothing' earlier," she reminded him. "Plus you were giving the Grinch a run for his money yesterday. Come on, Daniel… what's going on?"

He sighed. Alexis was incredibly perceptive, and if he didn't tell her, there was a likelihood she would wheedle clues out of him until she could adequately guess. It would be quicker and less painful to just tell her.

"It's Betty," he said.

"What about Betty?"

"I suppose it's not really Betty," he said, trying to avoid the subject as long as possible. "It's me, I suppose."

"Why, what have you done?" When an answer wasn't forthcoming, Alexis – as anticipated – tried to guess. "You didn't fire her, did you?"

"What? No, of course not. I'm not a complete Scrooge. It's just… complicated."

Alexis considered that the majority of Daniel's situations were complicated, and this was just par for the course. "You wanna start at the beginning? It usually helps…"

He frowned at her sarcastic tone; she was pulling out all the stops to get him to open up, including her favourite tactic of irritating him. With a deep breath, he recounted the events of the past couple of days. He attempted to skim quickly over the incident on Betty's staircase, but Alexis caught the relevant point in the midst of his ramble.

"Whoa, back up. You _kissed_ her?"

"Did I say that? I can't have said that…"

Alexis spoke in a warning tone. "Daniel…"

"All right. Yes. Fine. I kissed Betty. She pushed me away, and then I left."

"Huh. Okay then." Alexis seemed to ponder this for a while. Then, suddenly, she punched him hard in the arm.

"Ow! What was that for?"

His sister set into a tirade, her hands flailing manically to indicate her point. "Okay, _first_ of all, you never kiss and tell. Second of all, Betty's a sweet girl who doesn't need Daniel 'Wandering Hands' Meade trying to grope her in the middle of the night. And _third _of all, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?" She punched him again.

He flinched, rubbing his arm. "I don't know. I _wasn't_ thinking. Also, I wasn't trying to _grope_ her, thank you very much." He gulped down a mouthful of water. "I just… I couldn't sleep, and apparently nor could Betty."

"So you thought you'd keep yourself entertained with one of your usual night-time activities?" She raised an arm to punch him a third time, but Daniel moved out of the way.

"Would you _stop_ that? You're not my big _brother_ any more, Alexis. It's not exactly ladylike."

"I'm fighting for the side, here," she explained. "Now stop avoiding the subject and sit back down."

"Are you going to stop hitting me?"

She folded her arms and pouted a little sulkily. "Fine…"

Cautiously, Daniel sat back down on the couch, an inch or so further away from his sister. "She was just… everywhere," he explained. "I only wanted to talk to her, but it was like… I don't know. Suddenly there was this fist in my chest squeezing all the air out of my lungs, and Betty and her family had been so good to me, and there was this… this moment of total clarity. You know?"

Alexis stared at him, curiosity in her gaze. She had never heard her kid brother talk like this before, and there was a side of him emerging which had never seen the light of day. Of course, she had heard about the Sofia incident before her release from the clinic, but she didn't recall Daniel reacting like this about it.

"What are you telling me?" she asked.

Luckily enough for Daniel, his 'moment of total clarity' had lingered long past its sell by date. When he next spoke, it was with enough conviction to shock Alexis into momentary silence.

"I'm in love with her, Alexis. I'm in love with Betty."

_To be continued…_

_**A/N:**__ I thought the Daniel/Alexis sequence was going to be much more difficult to write, but it was actually kind of fun. :) Sibling rivalry; don't you love it?_

_Anyway. I apologise again for the lack of Dettyness, but this is the last of the 'filler' chapters. The good stuff starts in chapter six, I promise. Also, I know I promised a while ago that Henry wouldn't appear in the fic in __person, but he was unfortunately necessary in this chapter; still, at least he was only on the phone with Betty. He may appear very briefly later on, but it __will__ only be brief. Honest! crosses heart_

_Sooo… yeah. Review, m'dears._


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